


Forsaken

by cheddarbug



Series: The Ties that Bind [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dark, F/M, Forced Marriage, Gonna update tags as I go cause this is gonna get interesting, Loss of Faith, Mind Games, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Survival, Unhealthy Relationships, Violaine's Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheddarbug/pseuds/cheddarbug
Summary: Torn from everything she has ever known, Violaine is thrust into a world unlike anything she could have imagined. Forced into a marriage to a soulless Garlean, she struggles with doing what it takes to survive without losing herself.And then one day, a simple act of kindness and recognition is extended to her by the most unlikely person in the entire empire. Little does she know his intentions with her are less than pure and likely to lead her on a darker path than even Zenos himself could have imagined...*Part of my Ties that Bind series. This one is following the story of Carine's little sister. This story is MUCH darker than anything else I have ever written. Please look at the tags to make sure you are aware of what you are getting into*





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of triggers. Lots of feels. Lots of pain and tears and desperation. The path Violaine takes is not for the lighthearted. Proceed with caution.

Violaine’s cheek cracked against the cold stone floor, released from the biting grip of Garlean steel gauntlets and flung into a small room. Blurry eyes focused and unfocused on the black and white walls, her head pounding from the force of her fall. Letting out a moan, she reached her hands out to help pull herself to her knees despite the dizziness that threatened to unsettle her fragile stomach. 

The door slammed shut behind her, but the Elezen knew she wasn’t alone. She could feel the presence of the Garleans to her back, their judgemental gazes upon her as she shifted her weight so that she could sit up against the wall and gather her bearings. They had been ordered to keep an eye on the “savage”, that much she had understood from their brief exchanges while she had begged and pleaded to know where she was being taken. 

Answered with silence on the long journey in the airship, Violaine had been forced to wait for her fate to be revealed through a window. The darkened sky had only served as an ill omen until the black spires of Garlean skyscrapers were illuminated by flashes of lightning. 

She wasn’t in Eorzea any longer.

She clenched her eyes pinching off fat tears that now spilled relentlessly over her dirty cheeks. The memory of seeing her sister fighting off the guards that had been taking her away had spurred her on to fight her captors, but she wasn’t half the warrior that Carine was. Violaine had never been a fighter. 

Yet here she was, no doubt a prisoner trapped behind the walls of their enemy in the midst of their territory without a fighting chance at escaping.

Bells passed in silence. Not even the guards diligently keeping watch over her made any movement as they waited. Waited for what? As far as she had known, none of the brides were ever taken out of Eorzea during the Draft. They were all to stay behind and provide children for their husbands that watched the Castrum walls. Why was she here when her new duty was best served back home where at least there was the chance she could be united with Carine?

Footsteps echoed down the long hall she had been dragged through, their sounds getting louder and louder until it was clear they had stopped just outside her door. Violaine pulled her knees up to her chest gathering the soiled cloth as best she could to hide herself from whoever it was on the other side. A few barked commands in native Garlean had her swallowing and shaking in fear, the soldiers now opening the door and allowing in three new faces.

Fear kept her eyes down and focused on her knees, her ragged breath breaking the silence as the new figures entered her space. Clenching her eyes shut, she prayed over and over with quivering lips to the Twelve to wake her from this nightmare and take her back home. She begged and pleaded and bargained with them, her desperation vocalized now as one of them knelt to examine her closer.

“Interesting.” The voice was cool, controlled, and inquisitive, but she flinched all the same at the sound. “And you are sure this is not a mistake?”

“No, my lord. We have tested her blood three times with the same results. You are a match.”

“A shame.”

Fresh tears spilled from her eyes at the contempt in his tone as she buried her face deeper into her knees. Foolish as it was knowing full well they could still see her, it was the only comfort she found when surrounded by whoever these men are. 

“You have a duty to the Empire, Zenos. You would be wise to remember that no one is exempt,” another harsher voice offered. “Not even you.”

“But of course, Father. I wouldn’t dream otherwise.” His tone was clipped and sarcastic, but agreeable all the same as he stood to his full height. “I suppose a ceremony would be in order? We all know how much our Emperor  _ loves _ his ceremonies.”

There was a heavy sigh, deliberate and exasperated from above her, but nothing else was said before they left her as they had found her - a quivering, frightful mess of a coward that couldn’t even bare to meet their gaze.

Carine and Mama would be so  _ proud. _

 

***

 

_ Blessed Azeyma, why is this happening to me? _

 

Violaine looked in the mirror provided solemnly. She did not recognize the woman staring back at her though logically it could only be herself. Oh but she was the picture of beauty. Her long, ash blonde hair had been intricately braided and adorned with a silver crown, her gown was of the purest white decorated with pearls and diamonds befitting a queen. A veil hung past her shoulders and stretched above the obscenely long train that put any of the wedding gowns she had ever fantasized about to shame. Frightened sapphire eyes stared back at her, their depths of despair knowing no end as a servant painted her lips the softest shade of pink. 

After bells of being cleaned and pampered and doted upon as if she were some royal princess, Violaine was finally ready to walk the aisle and meet the man that would be her husband. 

She had dreamed of this moment ever since she was a young girl tossing ideas back and forth with Carine on where the ceremony would be, what they would wear and even imagining the men they were to marry. Though the dress and bouquet were beautiful and well suited to her finer tastes, the voice that had welcomed her but two days ago haunted her dreams turning her hopes to dust and waking her into a nightmare she could never escape.

And still the gods did not answer her pleas.

 

_ Blessed Althyk, please wake me from this nightmare. _

 

As she was lead from her dressing room surrounded by guards on all sides, each of them fully armed, Violaine imagined herself as Carine in this moment. She would never stand for this, never allow herself to be paraded down an aisle for some gluttonous lord that would force his way with her in consummation of their arranged marriage. She would disarm the guard to her right, stealing his lance and use it to take out the others with one large sweep of the weapon. She would charge fearlessly down the aisle, raising the spear and hauling it with her impressive strength straight through the Garlean that thought he could claim and tame her. She would gladly die a free woman than a slave to the enemy.

But Violaine was not her sister.

 

_ Blessed Halone, grant Carine your fury if you shall not grant it to me. _

 

Like the coward she was, she allowed them to drape the veil over her face masking her tears and her trembling lips and walked down the aisle. Step by step her sanity and composure was lost, each one marking the end of Violaine Monteil and the beginning to a woman she did not wish to know.

_ Keep moving or you die, _ she told herself breathing through the fear that threatened to cripple her there in a room full of hundreds of onlookers. Why were so many people here for her marriage? Why was it being held in a throne room? What was the significance of this?

The path was seemingly endless as surprisingly beautiful music played in time with her hesitant steps. Light filtered in from the single window bearing the Garlean crest behind and intricately designed throne. The closer she got, the more imposing the sight of it was to behold. Her heart stuttered in her chest at the black steel and gold trim, her eyes focusing on anything besides the figure standing there to the side awaiting her. 

Violaine counted the steps one by one. Twelve. Of course there were twelve steps. Each one marked one of her beloved gods, each one amounting to nothing more than a stepping stone for the Empire. The number, however insignificant it was to her captors, gave her the faintest flutter of hope in her chest. They were here. The Twelve  _ had _ to be. They wouldn’t abandon such a devoted daughter as she had been. They couldn’t.

 

_ Blessed Byregot, may their walls break and their fortresses crumble by your divinity. _

 

Lost in the spark of hope she had found in this prison, she had forgotten where she was or why she was here. Fear clenched her spine as a thick, armor-clad arm extended itself to her. Stupidly she looked at the offering in wonder of what she was expected to do of it. A deep, threatening growl was all it took to snap her into decision and wrap her own against it. She felt small and insignificant standing beside the beast of a man adorned in thick, formidable armor, his face still unknown to her as they walked side by side with her eyes cast to the floor.

 

_ Blessed Oschon, let this not be my final home. _

 

Eyes closed, Violaine ignored the lengthy speech given by a man robed in white as she prayed to the Twelve. More fervent did her pleas grow as the man conducting the ceremony drew to a close and ordered the couple to now face each other. Try as she might to hold back the tears there was nothing she could do to stop their flow as the veil was lifted from her face. 

She did not open her eyes as if refusing to look upon the Garlean was going to stop this nightmare in his tracks. That did not keep him from taking her hand and pricking her finger using the blood to seal their contract rather than her signature. She held her tongue between her teeth biting back the pain until he released her and still she refused to meet his gaze. 

But Violaine could not avoid him forever and despite her best efforts to try and put on a brave face, there was no denying the terror she felt the moment she looked into the cold, callous blue eyes of her husband. Beautiful and captivating as they were, there was a lifeless quality to them that made her tremble yet she could not turn away. A golden, round third eye accented beautifully by the golden crown upon his head was the next thing to capture her attention, but it was his heartless stare she always returned to. 

 

_ Blessed Menphina, do not forsake me now. _

 

Zenos yae Galvus, as he was proclaimed to the assembly to bear witness to their union barely smiled at her as he leaned in. It was customary in Eorzea that the bride and groom kiss each other, it was celebratory, but there was nothing that felt holy or worthy of celebration when his lips brushed her ear and whispered, “You’re gods hold no power here.”

Violaine swallowed her fear though the pounding of her heart could clearly be heard within her chest. He smiled softly before pressing the lightest of kisses to her lips and taking her hand to be presented before their guests.

He was a monster. She could feel it from the void that claimed the space his soul should be, but Carine had taught her that even the monsters have their role in this world. How many nights had her sister instructed her on the ways of the creatures she had encountered in the Black Shroud and among other places? Even the beastmen held their rightful place. If they could, then surely so could this beast.

 

_ Blessed Llymlaen, navigate me through these treacherous waters that I might yet weather this storm. _

 

Violaine was forced to keep with his pace, slow and deliberate and dripping with power. Beside him she was nothing, less than nothing. The few Garlean women in attendance, adorned in fine silks and jewels, looked upon her as though she were less than the scum beneath them. Envy and anger were chief among their pointed stares and accusing glances. She didn’t understand it. If they wanted him so badly, then why was she the one marrying him? She was no pureblood, she was of no importance.

She never wanted any of this.

And yet she was being paraded down the aisle, an ornament to be scorned and hated for being forced to comply with a stupid law they had created. It made no sense and only served to worry her further as the end of their walk,  _ her _ walk of shame, grew ever closer.

 

_ Blessed Thaliak, grant me your wisdom to survive here. _

 

She was lead through tall hallways, the ceiling stretching higher than her eyes could see while walls welded with intricate designs guided them on their path. Their destination, however, was not within this building as Zenos’ grip tightened around her arm and lead her down another hallway lit by magitek lanterns. Large doors opened before them without a single command, the soldiers standing in attention as their prince forced her to follow him onto the landing strip and in one of the airships. The moment the door hissed closed, he released her choosing instead to sit and watch her with curiosity in those cold eyes of his. 

Zenos apparently was not a man for conversation for tense silence hung in the air during their short journey to wherever he was taking her. He simply watched her with amusement, the only sign of interest being the smallest of smiles on his lips as he took in her state of distress. Did she sit? Did she stand? Was she supposed to take her place beside him? How was Violaine supposed to know what to do when he indicated nothing? She dared not speak for fear of what might befall her should she take a step out of line.

Silence stretched into eternity until their ship landed. Violaine hadn’t realized she had locked her knees from fright and the sudden jolt had the bride falling to the floor. Just as before, Zenos silently stared, but the amusement had long since left his eyes. When she sought assistance against the dress that now held her down, all she could see was his utter hatred and distaste for her. A silent sob escaped her lips as he stepped over her, his disgust at the sight of her struggling at his feet breaking her heart into a million pieces before she could gather the strength to stand on her own and follow him stiffly towards the entrance to what she assumed was his home.

Never once did he glance back to make sure she was following. Never once did he wait for her at the door and allow her in as a proper gentleman should. Never once did he speak directly to her as he pulled off his cloak and handed it to one of the servants. 

“Have her prepared and brought to my quarters,” he ordered. Violaine shuddered to imagine the implication of his words.

The wealth displayed before her was unlike anything she had ever seen before in her life. Artifacts from civilizations long fallen decorated the walls, most of them being swords of various sizes, shapes, and type. The heads of various terrifying beasts stared down at her as she was pulled reluctantly by the servants, their lifeless eyes echoing the same void she had seen in his own. Gold accented each and every surface as far as she could tell from its telling glint in the rug beneath her feet and the trim along the walls to the chandeliers that hung over her head. Nothing truly matched, but it all seemed to hold the same theme.

Conquest.

 

_ Blessed Nald’thal, may their future trades prove fruitless and their wealth waste to rust. _

 

Her room, at least the room she believed to be hers, was nothing more than a place for her to sleep and dress. Soft reds and whites dominated the room accented in black - the colors of Garlemald on full display as if a reminder that she was far from home. There was no familiarity, no homely feeling as her fingers traced over the sharp contours of the black furniture that served only a practical purpose. Drawers opened at her touch revealing nothing within them, a reminder that there was nothing in this room that belonged to her. If anything, she was meant to be just another added trophy to his wall of conquests and achievements. 

The servants tried to explain how things worked, but Violaine’s mind was far away across land and sea. Their instructions fell on deaf ears as her eyes searched for anything,  _ anything _ that could be used against Zenos. Alas there was nothing. No life, no nature, no power that she could draw from to call forth her magic to defend herself against the inevitable. Just like his eyes, just like the heads on his walls, just like the steel that hummed with the steady thrum of magitek.

It was all utterly lifeless.

 

_ Blessed Nophica, have they truly cast you from this place? _

 

Violaine submitted to the servants as the unbuttoned her dress and let it slip from her body and pool at her feet like a wilted rose. They silently pulled the pins holding her hair in place allowing the ashen waves to fall down and brush the small of her back. The finest white silk was wrapped around her, making her the picture of innocence and beauty and everything she should have been save the fear in her eyes. 

She was forced down the hall, one reluctant step after the other, until she was facing a sliding door that opened with the touch of one of the servant’s hands. Her body jumped at the sound, a gasp escaping her lips despite her best efforts to remain strong. Holding her breath, the Elezen took one tentative step into the room, eyes exploring the dimly lit walls adorned with magitek lights that cast a soft blue glow over everything.

Another cautious step and the door closed suddenly behind her, trapping her like an animal in a cage. Adrenaline pumped through her system spurring her into action as she beat her hands against the door and tried to make her escape. Sobs tore from her throat, her cries falling on deaf ears as her desperation gave way to despair. 

“So, there is yet some fight in you.” A cold voice said from behind her, the same one that had kept her from sleep since the night she arrived in Garlemald. “Good. That will make this more...interesting.”

He was soon at her back, a broad chest pressed against her revealing there really was a man beneath all the armor he had been wearing after all. Somehow that brought a small comfort to Violaine as she turned slowly to look at him with reddened eyes. 

Zenos was beautiful, beautiful in the way a tiger was with its rippling muscles and predatory eyes as it stalked its prey. A wondrous sight to behold in the wild, but that did not mean the antelope or the hare it hunted agreed. 

 

_ Blessed Rhalgr, lend me your strength to endure this. _

 

He ‘tsked at her, heartless eyes amused as the flicked there way down to her lips. “An adamant one, aren’t you? Haven’t I told you that your gods hold no power here?” A shiver raced up her spine as his cold fingers pinched her cheeks to meet his gaze. “Pray to them if you wish, just know that which does not exist cannot help you.”

Violaine spat at him surprising herself in the action as she hadn’t even remembered thinking it. Her face paled as he released his grip on her cheeks to wipe away the scant amount of spittle that managed to land on his face. He looked at it, brows raised in evident surprise before returning his attention to her. 

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me…” she stuttered, eyes growing wide as he heart pounded in her chest.

But he only grinned. It was a malicious grin born of evil and power and a hatred so strong that she could feel it radiating from him as his hand shot forward and gripped her throat. Eyes bulged in her head, fingers ripping and tearing into the flesh of his arm as he lifted her off the ground with such ease one would think she was nothing more than a feather.

And yet he smiled all the while.

“Oh come now, my pet, is this all the fight you have to offer me?” he purred, head tilting to the side as he watched her struggle for air. 

Violaine’s lungs screamed in her chest, the pressure against her trachea bordering on crushing as she clawed helplessly at his arms. Black dots obscured her vision, her legs kicked uselessly against him. He was too strong, too powerful, she had no hope to overpower him no matter how hard she tried. 

 

_ Blessed Nymeia, please do not let this be my fate. _

 

“Pathetic.” He dropped her to a crumpled gasping heap on the floor, his eyes bored and disappointed as he turned away from her. She choked and coughed, voice strained from the immediate damage her vocal chords had taken from his punishing grip as she struggled to her knees. “You were supposed to be strong, the  _ strongest. _ Yet you can barely break my skin or bruise my flesh,” he went on, his tone growing more agitated as he put distance between them. 

Strong? Violaine was never strong. Maybe in spirit, but never in strength. She was a healer, a nurturer. Had they confused her for Carine? Even that seemed unlikely. Her sister was strong and capable, but compared to the monstrosity currently in the room with her, she would be little more than a nuisance. 

“No matter. I have a  _ duty...” _ he spat the word as though it were poison on his tongue, “and at least you’re pretty.” His heavy steps made their way back to her and his bruising grip lifted her off the ground. Violaine cried out as the pain laced up her arm, but her voice was broken and cracked and sounded nothing like her. Silk was ripped from her body, easily ignoring the desperate attempts she made at keeping her nakedness covered.

Thrown on the bed, instinct kicked in and the Elezen scrambled over silken sheets to put as much distance between her and the man now chuckling behind her. His large hands grabbed her ankles jerking her back as she cried and screamed and prayed. The more she struggled, the more it spurred him on. His tongue licked along her skin from her collarbone to her neck before biting her hard enough she was sure he would rip out her throat then and there.

Fingers penetrated her forcing their way inside with less than gentle prodding. Her muscles contracted at the invasion, fresh tears spilling as her body betrayed her with its growing wetness while he mercilessly prepared her for what was to come.

“A shame neither of us will enjoy this, isn’t it, my pet?” Malevolent eyes contradicted the sweet tone of his voice. Violaine stilled, the threat of more pain weakening her resolve to fight. Her survival was paramount and surviving this moment with her mind intact meant one thing. Submission.

“I’ll do whatever you want. P-please, don’t hurt me,” the Elezen begged, voice harsh and ragged in her own ears. 

“You poor, stupid thing,” he whispered sweetly against her ear. “You’re not strong enough to give me what I want.”

A scream echoed through the halls of the prince’s personal chambers mingled with the sounds of sinister laughter while Garlean soldiers stood silently in their wake.

 

_ Gods...why have you forsaken me? _


	2. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Domans have heard word that Eorzea succeeded in driving out the Garleans. Hope has sparked a rebellion, a rebellion whose flames are doused by the presence of Zenos yae Galvus.   
> And he's brought his reluctant bride with him.

A hair-raising scream could be heard through the thick metal places that encompassed the Garlean airship. Violaine sat motionless upon her seat sipping on hot tea poured by one of her ladies in waiting as her husband had his armor strapped to his body, the screams and shouts outside going ignored. 

Zenos looked imposing as ever clad in his black armor. Long blond hair fell to his waist tangling in the steel plates and spikes and metal buttons that made up his protection. He did not bother to tuck it under nor did he bother with tying it up so it would be out of the way. She had asked him why once. 

Once. 

Another scream and the sound of a body being smashed against the airship gave her the slightest jump. Violaine swallowed and glanced from the corner of her eyes to see if her husband had noticed the break in her demeanor and exhaled ever so slightly when his back was still turned to her. Used to the ruthless ways of the Garleans after a year of living among them, it was becoming easier to ignore the violence and turn a blind eye, but it had yet to make her immune.

“You tremble, my pet,” Zenos purred from across the cabin, pale blue eyes turning to her in a callous glare. “Does the promise of conquest frighten you?”

“No, my lord,” Violaine dipped her head in a bow. “I only fear for my husband. ‘Tis not I that will face Kaien Rijin.”

This earned a smirk at the corner of his mouth and his full, devoted attention. “And do you not think me capable of ending his insignificant life?”

“I cannot say, my love,” she swallowed nervously, her fear growing. It was a mistake to have opened her mouth, a mistake to have engaged in conversation. She could not win against him in a battle of power or words and yet she had been foolish enough to engage him. “I have heard the others talking. They claim he is the greatest swordsman. Is it wrong for me to fear for you?”

Zenos’ face softened, the look he bestowed upon her one of pity. “Oh you should have nothing to fear, my pet,” he spoke softly, kindly,  _ coldly, _ as he ran his fingers through her pale blond hair. “I shall steal his title tonight. And you shall watch.”

Violaine pulled her face away and stared at the delicate glass cup in her hands. Of course he would not lose, Zenos  _ never _ lost. This was nothing more than a game to him, a test. No one could best him in combat and those that tried were met with violence until their blood spilled forth like a river from their corpses. She was the only one to survive, but only because Garlean law kept him from killing her. 

For now.

Just over a year had passed since her marriage to this monster of a person and she had still not given him a child. It was not for his lack of trying either for the man was as ruthless in their marriage bed as he was on the field of battle. Night after night he would send for her and night after night he would ravage her until he spilled his seed and sent her away. Month after month her menstrual cycle would betray her and start the process all over again. 

Forsaken as she had been by the Twelve she had worshipped, that hadn’t stopped her from praying to them every night as she healed and cried herself to sleep. She had thought they had answered her when news broke out that Eorzea had destroyed the XIVth Legion with their Warrior of Light. She had thought her nightmare would soon be over and this mystery warrior would come to free all the drafted brides from their prisons. 

But they never came.

Every time a new hope emerged, her spirits were crushed thanks to her husband and father-in-law. When Emperor Solus passed just a few months ago, Violaine had allowed herself to believe that his successor would dismiss the marriage draft and send her home. Varis had openly been against it from the beginning, as she had learned from her time in the capital. It was no secret that he considered it a vile thing and that the future of the Garlean race could be fixed through science. Exactly what science, Violaine had never learned even after his succession over his uncle. 

Zenos donned his helmet, a frightful thing that made him look more beast than man. Even though she had seen him wear it often, she could not help the small shudder that raced up her spine at the sight. The scent of her fear fill the air and turned his attention back to his battered bride whose wounds ran so deep that none knew of their existence. “Ah, but ‘tis not I you fear for, is it my pet?” he tilted her chin up with a finger. “Do you wish for the Domans to win this night? To claim my life so that you might be finally free of me?”

_ Yes! _ “No, my lord.”

Blue eyes narrowed, but he did not release his grip. “Liar.” It was a statement, a fact, a truth, but no resentment. He could smell the lie in the excitement of his potential demise at the hands of a man who was thought to be the greatest swordsman to have lived, but he did not hold it against her to wish it upon him. “But wish what you will. Pray, if it suits you. The outcome will remain the same.”

“As it should, my lord.”

Zenos released her then with a smirk and left her as he always did before a battle. “By the night’s end, I shall have won you a castle. I expect to be rewarded.” She followed the sight of his back until it disappeared from view praying to the gods they would deem it so he wouldn’t return. Violaine knew however, they would not hear her pleas nor would they answer them because to her very core she knew he would return. 

He  _ always _ returned.

 

***

 

Bells passed before Violaine wir Galvus was summoned from the safety of the airship. Her ladies in waiting trailed quietly behind stepping lightly over the fallen bodies of those that had dared rebel against the Empire. Violaine kept her eyes forward following the gilded path adorned with fallen soldiers both Doman and Garlean alike. Fire burned on the roofs of the buildings that surrounded Doma Castle. Cries and shouts from those still fighting or surrendering echoed through the carnage only to be cut short. 

They had dared to hope in the wake of the victory in Eorzea and they had utterly failed.

The body count did not decrease as Violaine and her ladies in waiting entered the castle. The rich red rugs inlaid with gold were stained with blood and littered with bodies. The will to ignore them grew weaker and weaker as the faces of women and even children that had been sheltered within the castle stared back. She quickened her pace, eager to enter the throne room and leave their lifeless expressions behind her. 

As she marched through the decadent halls and past the soldiers checking the fallen bodies for survivors, Violaine couldn’t help but feel shame for her ignorance of it all. What would her mother think if she knew that her daughter could turn her nose to this carnage and walk as though she did not see it? How would she react to watching her daughter’s dress soaked with innocent blood paint the marble floors like a smooth brush stroke on canvas? How would she feel knowing that she would not dare lift a finger to Zenos to stop him from murdering masses of those that dare oppose him?

Shame. She would feel nothing but shame. 

Heavy ornate doors stood before her, blood spattered against the golden handles and intricate carvings done centuries prior. They opened toward her revealing a massive throne room even more decadent and gilded than that of the Empire. Thick red columns accented with gold stood between tall, lavish windows that let in the light of the full moon shining brightly outside. Elegant chandeliers hung overhead giving off a diffuse light to reveal a line of men and women that had surrendered to the man sitting lazily upon the steps at the head of the room. 

Zenos.

His torpid gaze drifted to Violaine as she stopped and bowed her submission, a gaze mimicked with a lazy smile. Though he made no move to stand in her presence, his arms stretched out showing off his accomplishment. “I promised you a castle before the night’s end, remember?”

“Aye, my love,” she held her bow daring not to meet his cold eyes. He would be expecting his reward, but she could not begin to guess what it might be. “A finer castle I could never have imagined.”

Zenos motioned for her to join him and she did so without hesitation. In an unusual act of affection, her Garlean husband gently pulled her onto his lap and stroked her face with a bloodied glove. Slick, sticky blood traced against her cheek and it was then Violaine realized Zenos was covered from head to toe in the substance. The smell of death and decay threatened to overwhelm her senses as he pulled her in for a deep kiss. The taste of metallic copper exploded against her tongue and she could do nothing but moan as she fought the urge to vomit and pull away. 

“A fine castle indeed,” he purred against her. “But what have you done to earn it?”

“My lord?” Her voice sounded small, weak. It was but a squeak in the large room where soldiers and rebels watched the pair with strange interest. Understanding was lost to her as he urged her to stand and the pulled a blade from his sheath and placed it in her hands. 

“Time for you to earn your keep, my pet.” There was a strange, haunting light in his eyes, a meaning she did not wish to fathom as they turned to the line of prisoners bound in chains. Her heart throbbed and pounded and threatened to beat out of her chest. The katana in her hand burned her like the sun, yet she could not release her grip. 

“I-I do not understand…” she squeaked, shaking her head and offering the weapon back to her husband in fear. 

Zenos leaned in and tucked a strand of hair behind one of her long pointed ears and whispered, “Liar.”

Her eyes flashed as she looked upon the prisoners once again. They stared back in confusion and fear, their dark eyes flitting between her and the sword in her hands. Her hands shook with such ferocity that the blade nearly fell from her fingertips before Zenos placed his around hers and held them in place. 

“Zenos, my lord, please!” she begged, turning to him. “I-I cannot!”

Violaine had never harmed another being in her entire lifetime. She had been taught that her hands were meant for healing and purification, not for violence. Often she had scolded Carine on her choice to be a hunter and a soldier when there were more peaceful options and more often than not she had pulled her elder sister away from a fight that was pointless. To raise her hand against another person would be a devastating blow. To kill them?

It would ruin her. 

“You can, my pet,” he crooned in her ear. “You will because it will please me.” He turned her back around to face the first of the line of prisoners. 

He was barely a man, surely no older than 18 summers, just four years younger than she. His tanned, freckled face glanced up at her, dark eyes wide and fearful as she stood over him with Zenos to her back. Tears streamed down her face and lips trembled as Zenos whispered instruction on how best to handle the weapon in her hands. She tried to block him out, tried to pray to the Twelve or to whoever would listen, but he was insistent. He guided her movements and she had no choice but to give in and feel the weight of her sin come down in full force upon the Doman rebel. 

His body fell as steel glided through him like a hot knife through butter, his life ended at her hands. 

Violaine’s soul shattered in the wake of what she had done. Tears poured from her eyes as her cries of agony echoed through the chamber. Her hands clenched tightly to her chest, sobs tearing through her and Zenos simply watched in disgust from above. No words were spoken. No hands were offered. No kindness shown to the Elezen that had fallen to her knees as the Twelve abandoned her once again to the monstrosity that was her husband. 

Time passed whether it be bells, minutes, or seconds before there were no more tears to cry. She sniffled and choked and turned away from the dead man lying before her lest she vomit from her heinous act. There would be no help from Zenos, so Violaine forced herself to stand on shaky legs and stare at the ground to avoid seeing any of the fear or pity the rebels felt for her. 

The sound of metal pulled from a sheath sent a shiver down her spine and her eyes closed as Zenos placed another of his sharpened blades in her hand. 

“Again.”

She pushed away from him in outright refusal, stumbling backward until she fell over the body of the man she had just killed. The man he had  _ helped _ her kill. There was no smile on his face, there was no kindness or warmth as Zenos reached down and pulled her harshly to her feet. Her shout of pain was ignored as he positioned her before the next victim and guided her movements without another word until another body lay dead. 

“Again.”

Each time a man fell to her blade, Violaine fell to her knees until the tears had dried and her heart had hardened. Zenos ordered her over and over, his hands guiding her to her next victim until she began moving on her own. He helped her raise the blade and bring it down until she was the one doing it of her own accord. 

“Again.”

Violaine wanted to scream. She  _ did _ scream. She wanted to run or to turn her bloodied blade on the man behind her even if it meant her death. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. She  _ couldn’t. _ Every order, every demand Zenos made she complied with until the weight of the katana no longer weighed so heavily in the palms of her hands. 

By the time she reached the end of the line, at least fifty or more men lay dead by her hands alone. Zenos had stopped following her somewhere along the way, his blue eyes watching with interest as his bride ruined her dress with the blood of his enemies. Her hands no longer shook, tears no longer fell from her eyes, fear no longer clouded her vision. Only one man now lay between her and earning her palace. 

The greatest swordsman to have lived. 

He looked up at her, passion and defiance flashing in the darkness of his eyes. Blood ran from a nasty gash on the side of his head matting his black hair that fell like a mane around his face. He could have been handsome, perhaps, a king in the eyes of his people. But just like every other person that had dared oppose the Empire save the Warrior of Light, he had met his demise at the hands of Zenos.

Rather than beg and plead as some of his countrymen had done, Kaien Rijin bowed his head in ardent prayer. Even in defeat and death he believed his gods would save him. Violaine knew better now. She knew better than anyone gods were not real and if they were they cared nothing for the people that bowed and worshipped to them. If they were real, they ignored the plights of the needy and enjoyed war and death for sport. 

“Your gods hold no power here,” she spat, blade arcing through the air and coming down with a wet crunch against his neck. “That which does not exist cannot help you.”


	3. Consideration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violaine struggles with the aftermath wrought by Zenos and this new change in attitude.

Candles lined the edge of the bath, their orange glow casting eerie shadows upon unfamiliar walls. Steam filled the air, the heat relaxing Violaine as she idly rinsed the blood from her hands and her arms. Her eyes stared at nothing, saw nothing. They were but blank sapphire gems until the sound of a door opening gained their attention. 

Zenos walked in wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Blood smattered across his face and matted his golden locks, but he looked no less beautiful than he did when he was pristine. The towel dropped without preamble and the Garlean climbed into the tub alongside his Elezen bride, planting himself between her legs with his back to her chest. 

Violaine needed no coaxing, her hands already aware of what it is he wanted. It was her duty as his bride to cleanse him after a hard fought battle and for the first time she felt no disgust in the act. They were covered in the same blood, they had committed the same crimes. They were now the same as far as she was concerned. 

“You did well, my pet,” he offered throaty praise, his hands sliding against her legs beneath the water. It was only the second time he had touched her kindly and she could not help but wince at the contact. “You surprised me.”

“I did as you asked,” she replied, taking the sponge and soaking it in the heated water to run over his head. “Do I not always?”

Zenos went silent and Violaine was acutely aware of just how dangerous that silence was. The man before her was a brilliant mastermind of strategy and battle. He knew his enemies better than they could have ever imagined and thus knew her better than she had known herself.

“I had not considered you capable of killing,” he answered, his fingers continuing to stroke against her legs. “I had thought you would turn the blade on yourself before another.”

For a moment, her hands stopped. Until now, Violaine had never once considered that as a possibility. There were days not long after her arrival she had thought of suicide, but in the end she had been too much of a coward to go through with it. The Twelve would not have wanted that for her, her family would not have wanted that for her. 

“My death would have served no purpose other than to free you of a burden you did not deserve.” Her voice had hardened, her well of emotions already run dry. “Was that what you wanted?”

Zenos’ hands stopped their meticulous stroking for a couple of breaths before beginning again. “Mayhap, but I am glad you did not.”

This surprised her into pausing once again, her hands mid-lather in his hair. Why would he be glad that she chose not to turn the blade on herself? He reminded her day after day what a disappointment she had been. “My lord?”

“Perhaps there is potential in you yet.” The corner of his mouth raised as he turned to face her. “You just need a little  _ encouragement.” _

Her heart lurched at the thought of killing more people that dared rebel against the man she was married to and the Empire he would one day inherit. Still, she knew that if he asked her to do it again, she would. She would because that meant her survival. She would because that would be what it took to make her stronger. 

She would because it would please him.

 

***

 

Days passed before Violaine entered the throne room of Doma Castle again. Those that had been tasked with cleaning up from the massacre brought by her hands had done well to remove every drop of blood and every stain. They had erased every trace of evidence that such violence had occurred within these gilded halls.

It was something she was grateful for. 

Her prayers had ceased following that night. There was no one to listen to them, none to heed her call and thus they were futile and hopeless. The proof only lay outside her window if she took the notion to see the few survivors of the onslaught being put to hard manual labor. If their gods, who had been painted and poised and sculpted into every building they had erected, wouldn’t come to their rescue, what hope did she have in the Twelve?

Zenos stood in the center of the throne room, his pale eyes scouring every inch with the smallest of satisfied smiles on his lips. He was in a good mood, though Violaine could not say what had put him in one. He had been gentle with her that night when he took her and every night following. It hadn’t made her anymore willing or kept her from flinching under his touch, but it was a reprieve from the usual. If anything, it had made her more wary. Good moods were rare. Gentleness was unheard of. 

“My love,” she bowed delicately before him, careful not to dislodge the ornate headpiece gifted to her by the loyal Doman servants now under her employ. “You called for me?”

“I did. Care to join me for a stroll?” he offered her his arm and she looked at it warily. 

“I thought the fighting was not yet finished?” Violaine wondered, taking his extended arm and linking herself to him. “Is it unwise for me to leave the safety of the palace?”

He peered down at her through the corner of his eye and smiled so softly it was a wonder anyone could think him a beast at all. She knew better, of course. She had witnessed it on more than one occasion and had personally experienced his brutality in ways none other had. 

“Would you not be safe traveling with me?”

“I would, my lord,” she replied truthfully. Brutal as he was, merciless and cruel, Violaine knew Zenos would not allow harm to come to her because of what she was and what she could potentially give him. As much as he hated her, he would not allow anyone to kill her. She imagined that was a thrill he longed to save for himself the day their marriage contract was up and she remained still without child. 

A Garlean child would be the only thing to ensure her survival. 

They walked in silence through the groves of cherry blossom trees that grew around the palace. Their soft pink petals fell like snow around them and for the briefest of moments she allowed herself remember. The blossoms were well known throughout Eorzea and Violaine had wanted nothing more than to buy some seeds or even a sapling to plant in her mother’s Chocobo pasture. She thought it would have been the perfect addition to their field of colorful wildflowers, but the trees needed much more sunlight than the forest floor of the Black Shroud could offer. 

“You weep,” Zenos said, pausing in the midst of their stroll and turning to her. Her fingers rushed to her cheek where they felt the wet trail of a solitary tear. “Why?”

“This place,” she motioned to the trees and the winding path. “‘Tis very beautiful.”

The Garlean prince looked down at her, his brow furrowed as he tried to decipher whether or not she was being truthful. His bride was well known for weeping in the wake of casualties, a weakness he did not tolerate, but she was not the same person she was prior to a few days ago. “You like this?”

Violaine wasn’t sure how to take this curiosity, mayhap it was a breakthrough to an understanding between them. Mayhap it was a chance for him to take something else she loved away. Imagining the beautiful trees burning to the ground simply because she had thought them lovely filled her with regret and sorrow as she replied, “I do.”

“Then you should tend them. And the gardens.”

Her eyes shot up in disbelief at his words. Surely she had just imagined them and conjured them up from a place of hope buried deep within her? The look he gave her was sincere, but would she be foolish enough to believe there wasn’t a catch? Were there more people she would have to kill? More innocent lives she would have to take? Mayhap one for each tree, each flower, each bloom…

“You do not believe me,” he stated and began walking again without her. “Does this gift not please you?”

It did. More than anything he had ever given her. Just the thought of being able to work with her hands and tend to the most beautiful trees in the world was enough to send her frantic heart into a frenzy. If he knew how much this meant to her, he could take it all away with the snap of his fingers. 

“It pleases me more than you know,” she replied and offered him a promising smile. He had taken everything from her. Her family, her innocence, her purity. The gods had forsaken her time and time again, yet her husband now offered a piece of her sanity she could not refuse. In the midst of all that she had lost, a grove of cherry trees was a treasure to behold.

“Anything you need, you have but to ask,” he told her as they continued their walk toward the gates of the castle. 

“Books,” Violaine began, her mind already racing at the possibilities. She had much to learn and little time to do so. Zenos would expect perfection and so would she. “I have never grown plants and trees like these so I will need every available resource. A local botanist would also be preferred as I have heard knowledge is not always fully passed on through text and as I am not fluent in Doman...oh…” she stopped herself and looked up at her husband wide-eyed in fear. She was rambling. She never rambled in his presence and for good reason. “My apologies…”

To her great surprise, Zenos chuckled. Frozen in fear as she was, the man that was considered more beast than person was chuckling. She had never heard the sound before and wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react. He never laughed. He never expressed any sort of emotion outside of boredom or disgust unless he was hunting. 

“Anything you desire shall be yours,” he said, stroking his finger against her cheek. “Now, come. There is much more to show you.”


End file.
